SOS Cardinal Wojtyla

by Mary Jo Anderson and Susan Mire

The tragedy of natural disasters can catapult families into a world of loss and uncertainty. Fortunately for many, family and friends rush to their aid in the aftermath of hurricanes, earthquakes and flooding. In the wake of the 2005 hurricane season, a record number of devastating storms left behind wreckage beyond description. Most of us recall television images of matchstick mountains where homes once stood and the frantic pleas for help from storm-dazed refugees. Yet, stories of heroic effort and sacrifice have also surfaced.

Some of the more heartening examples of human determination come from the charitable agencies and volunteers who labored unknown and unseen by the roving cameras and journalists. Among the stories least reported was the struggle of pro-life crisis pregnancy centers to continue their baby-saving mission in the face of debilitating obstacles.

Terry Weaver is the national director for Birthright. Though ecumenical, Birthright was founded by a Catholic Canadian, Louise Summerhill, mother of seven. Today, Birthright oversees more than 400 affiliated chapters in the United States and Canada. Weaver described their approach to disaster survival as “the same as your own family would respond”. A Cocoa Beach, Florida chapter lost its office space to back-to-back hurricanes. The Birthright national hotline picked up their calls during relocation, and other chapters speedily shipped maternity and baby clothes, formula, diapers and other supplies. “Because our services are strictly non-medical, our losses were easier to manage”, reports Weaver. Within a month the Cocoa Beach chapter had new office space and client services resumed.

The Gulf Coast of Mississippi sustained horrific damage during Katrina, though the plight of New Orleans dominated the news services. Weaver explained, “While Cocoa Beach is up and serving women again, our Long Beach, Mississippi chapter still depends on assistance from our other chapters -- as I said, we manage as one big family.”

The quiet determination of numerous pro-life warriors to persevere in the face of enormous odds is exemplified by The Woman’s New Life Center of New Orleans.

The Center, opened in 2001, had served 1700 hundred women before Hurricane Katrina’s raging winds smashed into the city. Susan Mire, founder and director of The Woman’s New Life Center tells the story of the “minor miracle” of heaven’s care during this most trying time.

Here is the story, as told by Susan herself.

The Woman’s New Life Center -- and Katrina
When Pope John Paul II was Archbishop of Krakow in the 1970s, he started an organization known as “S.O.S. Cardinal Wojtyla”. The work was his response to the legalization of abortion by the communists in Poland. Women faced with a crisis pregnancy were counseled to choose life for their unborn babies. These mothers were offered medical care and housing up to a year following the birth of their baby.

Inspired by this, Cardinal Wojtyla’s heroic effort on behalf of mothers and their unborn children, I thought, “Pope John Paul II started a crisis pregnancy center”. At that time I was immersed in my work as the director of a diocesan pregnancy center in New Orleans. The writings of JPII in Christifideles Laici and Evangelium Vitae were setting my personal world on fire. I’d contemplated starting my own center and this passage about the pope confirmed my vision. The Woman’s New Life Center was born.

With the Holy Father and Mother Teresa as guiding lights, a comprehensive center for women and unborn children was designed, rooted in church teaching and prayer. The Lord sent two wonderful priests and a solid group of Catholic men and women to help make the dream a reality. Each day began with Mass. We planted our center just around the corner from a New Orleans abortion clinic in a neighborhood of mixed income and mixed ethnicity. I invited professionals in the counseling and healthcare fields to work and to volunteer. We studied John Paul’s encyclicals and Humanae Vitae as part of our professional preparation.

The Woman’s New Life Center was the first New Orleans center to use ultrasound technology to reveal babies to their mothers. The very first abortion-seeking woman who received an ultrasound from us remarked, “I can see the hands and the feet”. It was my joy to hold that baby when he was six months old!

Reading and re-reading Evangelium Vitae, I felt especially charged by the Holy Father’s call for “centers for natural methods of regulating fertility”, and his call to make available marriage and family counseling grounded in Christian anthropology. Trained as a marriage and family counselor, I now envisioned a complete Catholic medical and mental health facility -- a perfect partner for our pregnancy center.

From October 2001 through August 2005, the Woman’s New Life Center grew exponentially. Following that first eventful sonogram, the next few months saw thirty-seven babies saved. We were the only office in the city to provide professional crisis pregnancy and post-abortion counseling. We hosted Rachel’s Vineyard retreats and became trained adoption facilitators. The Woman’s New Life Center received a grant in 2003 that enabled us to become a Medicaid provider, to hire a nurse practitioner and to begin pre-natal care. Directors and staff from pregnancy centers around the nation visited The Woman’s New Life Center to learn from our experience.

We started studies in Theology of the Body and were in the process of designing a sexual health program. We were, as Generation Y would say, the “bomb”. Best of all, we had saved 200 babies and their mothers. Eleven of “our” saved babies were placed for adoption. Things were moving ahead so beautifully that it seemed to be a dream.

And then the nightmare of Katrina screamed into New Orleans. The Saturday before the hurricane, as weather reports grew more ominous, I went to the center to prepare for it as best as possible given the circumstances. I recall thinking that it was possible we could have a foot of water in the office. Little did I know! My car was packed and I was on the way out when I remembered a critical folder of paperwork. I dashed inside to get it and in the process spied the statue of John Paul II. We contemplated each other for a few seconds, and then I grabbed his statue and ran back out to the car. I had no way of knowing that this was the last time I would see our sweet, peaceful little place, as it was when I left it that day.

The events of that first week were traumatic. Confusion. Fog. From my hotel in Birmingham, near the end of that first week of the hurricane, I saw Napoleon Avenue, our street, on a TV news program. It jolted me back to reality. People were navigating through the street in boats. There were reports that the hospital across from us was awash in 15 feet of water. It was a shocking sight in a week of shocking events.

We were not able to get into the center until the end of September, a month after the hurricane hit. During the effort to reclaim our lives, the city was again evacuated due to Hurricane Rita. We tried a second time a week later, armed with masks, gloves, and bleach. What I saw when we finally got the door open was one of the saddest sights of my life. Five feet of water had rushed into the center. An office toward the back of the center had a large hole in the ceiling, dumping rainwater on everything. Mold covered offices from floor to ceiling. Large pieces of furniture and equipment were strewn about as if some giant had tramped through and knocked each one down. Everything was dark, and destroyed. I stood in the remains of what had been our chapel, and cried. A real time of suffering had begun.

As I tell the story now to anyone who will listen, all that remained of that office literally fit into the back seat of my car, with one trip to the storage unit (which miraculously survived).

The best way to describe what happened next is simply the word mysterious. It’s the only word I know that can capture the relationship between suffering, divine providence, and God’s will. I knew through prayer and spiritual direction that the loss of the center was not to indicate the end of our ministry.

The board, now scattered refugees across the southeast, agreed. We began discussions and discernment by phone. I’d lost employees and sent e-mail appeals through the pregnancy center network for financial help, since the cash flow for the center had understandably stopped. No money, no people to employ or serve, no office, no funding. It meant a completely new start. We had no phone service, thus no way to know if women were seeking abortions. We would soon find out.

We knew we needed to raise money. As I started preparations to go to various cities, word began trickling in about the status of abortion clinics in the city. The clinic nearest us was wiped out, but a larger one, the largest abortion facility in the state, was feverishly working to re-open.

One by one, pregnancy centers scattered across the gulf coast attempted some level of re-opening. They all reported the same thing; the numbers of women seeking abortions skyrocketing.

Our own phone service was not restored until November, and over the next few weeks the numbers of women calling our crisis line for an abortion averaged about five per day. There was also a noticeable increase in Hispanic callers, as many Hispanic workers were flooding into the city to work in construction. I counseled them on the phone, attempting to refer them to the one or two other pro-life pregnancy centers that were actually open. Every pregnant woman I spoke with was in dire straits after the hurricanes.

I thought often of John Paul during these days. My intercessory prayer was an S.O.S. to John Paul II. I was once again inspired by his writings, by his vision, but this time, it was a different vision of his that inspired me. It was his perseverance during times of suffering and chaos, and his growth in faith and in holiness. It was his vision of hope that carried me through some of the most challenging days of my life. It was both his exhortation to “be not afraid” and his scriptural call to cast out in the deep that sustained me.

By December we had enough contacts to begin fund-raising in the new year. We learned that we could not return to our Napoleon avenue office; the damage was too great. Many abortion clinics had closed in the city, but two remained, including a large one in the suburbs. Sadly, it was very busy.

The next few months brought a combination of traveling and working to secure a new office. The traveling was both exhilarating and wearying. I would go away on a trip, and return to the administration of the pregnancy center in my home and the general feeling of depression that existed in our city. And start the process all over again. In late spring and early summer, two of my three employees returned, a miracle itself. And the new location that we were led to happens to be just around the corner from the very large suburban abortion clinic. As providence would have it, it’s a much larger office with more space for medical care, and a room for classes and meetings. It’s the type of space in which a John Paul II vision can easily find a home.

It’s now almost a year later, and the new center will open right after Labor Day. We still face shortfalls in funding as our own local resources have not recovered to the pre-Katrina levels. Yet, the staff and I are preparing to begin Spanish language classes, as we anticipate serving a new demographic. We know that we have been led to a new aspect of ministry, as we will confront not only the culture of death, but also the culture of Katrina. We are eagerly waiting to intercept some of those women who, on their way to get an abortion, will have to pass right by our center.

Most mysteriously of all, I realize that the chaos of hurricane Katrina is not greater than God’s providence. His plan for the center this past year continued to unfold as it would during what we would call normal times. I can truly give glory to God for the great work He is doing.

Yesterday I took down my statue of John Paul II, the one I rescued from the first office. I know just where to place it in our new location. I have no doubt that when someone puts out an S.O.S. to John Paul, either in a moment of inspiration or a moment of desperation, he answers, and is there.

Information
Director: Susan M. Mire
Center opened in October of 2001
In-office clients served from October 2001-August 2005:1700
Address: 3017 North Causeway, Suite100, Metairie, LA 70002
Telephone: 504-831-3117
Web site: www.womansnewlife.com